The Hunger Games: Continued

How Can I Not?

One day later
Katniss' POV

I wake from a sleepless night from thoughts of Annie and cries of Fin. Annie was to remain in twelve after the reunion, due to her current mental state and my rejection to drugging her - Plutarch's orders, not Dr Aurelius, who I immediately insisted he call. Now with Annie undergoing therapy in the Captiol, Peeta and I have been landed with her son, who looks painfully like his father and I suddenly wonder how Annie coped in his first three years of life.

Peeta sleeps soundly, whereas I awake to the cries of the child in the spare room, I wasn't sleeping well, anyway. He sleeps in a large cot that Delly loaned us. When I enter the room, Fin stands in his cot, crying. What could be the matter with him? He went to the toilet before bed, so it can't be that, and Peeta has been feeding him all day - he can't possibly be hungry. "What's wrong?" I ask the little boy with the golden curls.
"I miss my mummy!" He cries. Why hadn't that been the first thought to cross my mind? Of course he is missing his mum.
"Oh." I say, talking to children clearly being one of my weaknesses. Then Fin sticks his arms out in the air in front of him.
"Hug." He mumbles. Less of a question, more of a statement. Oh, I think. I cautiously take the little boy into my arms. How do I go about this? I place one hand under his thigh and another around his body. Am I supporting him right? What if I drop him?

I decide to carry Fin through to my own bedroom. I lay him down on the bed beside a sleeping Peeta, I sit down beside him. I tuck him under the duvet, deciding that I won't get another wink of sleep, anyway. What an unusual sight, Peeta sleeping next to a small child. I imagine one day in the future that child being ours. A surge of terror and giddiness rushes through me all at once.

I imagine a life in the future. Peeta and I, and a new life, a physical life that we created, living, breathing, smiling, crying, loving, hating, giving, taking. What a wonderful world it would be.
I imagine a life in the future. Peeta and I, and a new life, a physical life that we destroyed, living, breathing, smiling, crying, loving, hating, giving, taking. What a terrible world it would be.

How, after everything, can I give in? How, after the terror, the sadness, the loss, the total horror that always overclouds, can I be expected to bring a child into this world? How can I? But as I watch Fin climb up to the top of the bed to tug at Peeta's hair, how can I not?

Fin tugs at Peeta's curls, and as he starts to stir beneath him, the child hysterically laughs, rolling on his back, onto his side.

How can I not?

***

I must have dozed off some time after I woke last night, as I wake alone under a cover I cannot remember crawling under. Peeta is no longer next to me, neither is Fin. I force myself out of bed. Bread, the smell wafts into the bedroom, reminding me of the rumbling hunger in my stomach. I walk into the kitchen to find possibly the most adorable sight.

Peeta stands behind the counter rolling dough in his hands as a loaf bakes away in the oven. Fin stands on a very large stool next to Peeta, mischievously pouring a large bag of flour onto an oblivious Peeta's shoes. I decide not to say anything about that. "Auntie, Katniss!" Fin giggles, as he spots me. "Uncle Peeta is making bread. That ones mine." He says as he points to the loaf in the oven. I laugh. Peeta turns around as I approach him. "Morning," he says. "Good sleep?" He kisses my forehead. I shrug.
"Yeah." Even though I didn't. I know he'd feel bad for not waking and keeping me company.
"Breakfast will be ready soon. I think Fin's loaf will be far better than mine, though." Peeta says, winking at the little boy with the golden locks.

He was right. Fin's loaf is better, as I munch away at it on the sofa. Though I do have a sneaky suspicion that Fin's loaf wasn't an independent task. I cuddle with Peeta on the sofa, until Fin insists he sit in the middle. "My Mummy misses Daddy, doesn't she?" The boy suddenly asks. I give Peeta a wary look, unsure of how to answer the child. Peeta, being a master of words, decides to be the spokesman.
"Yes, Fin. She does. Your Daddy was a great man, you should be very proud of him. He was the bravest man I ever met, no wonder your Mummy loved him so much. He was a hero. A real life super hero. I can promise you that." Fin stares at Peeta, like he's hearing words he's waited for his whole life. Peeta ruffles his hair. "You remind me of him. You'll grow up to be just as brave. I know you will." A little tear runs down Fin's face, as he buries under Peeta's arm.

The idea that one day, Peeta could share his wisdom with his own child, tell stories to his own child, comfort his own child rushes to mind.

How can I not?